


Decompression Syndrome

by mergatrude



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, Infidelity, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-30
Updated: 2008-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mergatrude/pseuds/mergatrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd run out of stuff to drink, he'd run out of shit to say, so he went and lay down on Louis' bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decompression Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the ds_flashfiction Undercover Challenge (posted during an amnesty)

Ray lifted his head as the barman approached him, raising a finger. The barman shook his head, saying, "We're closing now, sir."

He let his head rest on the bar, and fumbled in his jacket for his phone, dialing the first number that came into his head.

"Yeah, who's this?"

"Hey Louis," Ray slurred.

"Fuck, Kowalski. Where are you?"

Ray half opened an eye to read the pink neon sign on the wall behind the bar. "Randy's."

"Okay. Christ, look at the fucking time. Stay put." The rest of Gardino's conversation with himself washed over Ray, something about car keys. Ray put his head back down.

***

Something was buzzing in Ray's ear. He swatted at it, sending his phone spinning down the bar.

***

Gardino was there, shaking him by the shoulder, handing him his phone. "How drunk are you, Kowalski? Are you gonna throw up all over my car?"

"Nah, 'salright." He wasn't really that drunk, more tired and fed up than anything. Ray levered himself off the bar stool by dint of throwing an arm round Gardino's shoulder, and trailed out to where Gardino's piece of crap was parked illegally. He tried to smile at Louis, but his face didn't seem to work.

Ray sat there, as the streetlights came and went, lighting up the backs of his eyelids, telling Louis about the job, about how stupid his cover was a five-year old wouldn't have bought it. How Kovac had almost skewered him with a huge fucking hunting knife, all of it just rolling off his tongue, but he could only hear Stella's voice.

 _I can't talk to you about this, Ray, you know that. I'm on the prosecuting team, for God's sake. It's my first big case after years stuck with misdemeanors – you_ know _how hard I've been trying to get ahead in this old boys club. Can't you see the PD psychologist?_

In the end he'd hung up the phone and thrown his coffee cup at the kitchen wall. She was right, of course; they'd been treating her like a paralegal and she was better than any of them. It didn't make him feel any better though. He stood there for a while, watching the trails of coffee and sugar slide down, then he turned and slammed out of the apartment and hailed a taxi to a place where he could drink with no one bothering him.

***

Gardino had gone back to watching the late movie, so Ray polished off the remaining finger of Gardino's bourbon, and his last two beers. There was nothing left in the apartment except some of Gardino's old man's _grappa_ , and he knew from experience that it wasn't that far removed from paint stripper.

He'd run out of stuff to drink, he'd run out of shit to say, so he went and lay down on Louis' bed.

***

Ray woke up with moonlight striping the bed through the blinds, his guts churning. He got up and staggered to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet to throw up whatever they'd had out on the bar tonight. His head was pounding, his mouth tasted like shit.

After rinsing out his mouth and finger brushing his teeth, Ray wandered back into the bedroom, toed off his boots and pulled off his t-shirt and jeans. Louis was snoring softly on the far side of the bed, so Ray pulled back the covers and climbed in.

Louis grunted, opening an eye. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." But it was a lie. Ray closed his eyes and tried to think about something else than his pounding head, but the only other thing he could think about was his dick. He clenched his fists and screwed up his eyes, but the gentle, persistent thrumming went on.

"Hey," Louis nudged him. "It's all right." And slid a hand under the covers into Ray's shorts, giving his cock a squeeze. Ray would have said no, but he'd been stuck in a damp motel room for two weeks and it felt so good to have someone else touch him. Louis stroked him till he was hard, then jerked him firmly, like he knew that Ray just wanted to get this done. Ray curled his fingers tight in the sheet and tried to keep his hips still, until he couldn't hold on any more, groaning and folding over himself as he came.

***

Opening his eyes, Louis was at his elbow with a handful of toilet paper, a glass of water and a packet of aspirin. Ray took the paper and wiped himself off, and by the time he'd downed a couple of aspirin and the water, Louis was back in bed, pulling the quilt over himself.

Ray felt kind of weird. He toed Louis, "Do you the same favor?"

"Nah. You can make it up to me next time. Now go to sleep, will you?"

So Ray stared at the patterns the streetlights made on the opposite wall until he fell asleep.

***

Ray woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of his cell phone ringing. The ringing stopped and he could hear Louis talking. "Yeah, he's here. I picked him up from a bar last night and he slept over here. He's fine. Well, he's not, but he will be. Yeah, I'll tell him. Don't worry about it."

Ray got up and wandered out into the living room. Gardino always made coffee in a pot on the stove, and it was always strong enough to make your hair stand on end. He needed that hit of caffeine right now.

"Stella called." Louis was pouring two mugs of coffee, wearing only a dress shirt, boxers and socks, with a hideous tie draped round his neck. "She asked if you'd call her as soon as you woke up."

"Okay," Ray said, and walked up to Louis, dropping to his knees on the puke green linoleum and pulling down Louis' boxers.

"Jesus fuck, Ray!" Louis dropped a hand to Ray's shoulder as he wrapped one hand round Louis' cock, sucking it into his mouth, stroking and teasing it. Louis' other hand held his shirt up out of the way. "Fuck, you look hot, doing that." Louis' cock was getting hard in his mouth, so Ray could let go and put some effort into sucking Louis off, holding him steady with a hand on Louis' hip, while his other hand snuck down and stroked his own cock, hard and fast.

Louis gave a couple of little thrusts, shifting a hand to cup Ray's face. "Jesus. Yeah, that's good." And he was coming with a grunt, Ray swallowing what he could before sitting back on his heels, panting, his hand moving desperately over his cock. Louis fell to his knees, holding Ray's head, licking at Ray's mouth, licking inside it. His hand wrapping round Ray's own, as Ray's orgasm wrenched through him, leaving him jerking helplessly in Louis' hands.

They kissed messily for a little longer, before Louis got up. "Shit! I've got to change my shirt now. I'm gonna be late."

"Doesn't go with that tie, anyway." Ray reached a hand up to the kitchen counter and pulled himself to his feet. He reached for a mug of coffee with one hand, and the sugar bowl with the other.

Louis was yelling something at him from the bedroom. "What?"

"Call your wife, will you?" he said, doing up his fly and pulling on a tweed sports coat. "And have a shower. You stink."

"Yeah, love you too, man." Ray took his coffee into the living room and picked up his phone, dialing home as Louis headed out of the apartment, flipping him the bird.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story for the original challenge, stalled out, got great beta advice which I didn't really take full advantage of, stalled out again, so I posted it for the 2008 Amnesty Challenge in desperation in order to move on with my life. Thank you so much, sageness, china_shop and brooklinegirl.


End file.
